


Discipline

by jaxdaws (divinepotato)



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinepotato/pseuds/jaxdaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Legionaries are disloyal, some are punished. The others are made to watch. How Vulpes Inculta came to be a Frumentarius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> A short little thing that may have been written for a kink meme back in the day.

Normally when the condemned are flogged, the calls of their betrayed comrades outmatch the bitten-off screams of the punished. Those punished are chained to a post in the arena and beaten raw—the whipmasters pride themselves in slewing flesh from the bone. The humiliation of the punishment is worth more than the pain—Legionaries do not respond to torture under any circumstance, they know that the price is much worse than torture if they break. No, it is the defamation before their brothers that brings a Legionary to his knees before he is executed for his disloyalty.

But today, there is silence. The legionaries ring the arena, of course, but each man holds his tongue. Today, there is only one man punished—After all, a contubernium was led by its Decanus, and a centurion was scarcely punished for following orders. Should a contubernium fail to follow command, there was one man to blame and that was the Decanus who gave the order to break rank. Today, the man at the whipping post is Decanus Vulpes Inculta.

There are but two sounds that can be heard above the baying of the occasional mongrel hound at the bitter copper stench of spilled legionary blood, and those are of the punished and the instrument of his torture. Vulpes Inculta is 22 years old, and yet proud enough that he would sooner bite through his lip and crush his teeth against the pain than allow his punisher the satisfaction of hearing him scream. The whip itself is a vicious instrument designed more for the benefit of the crowd watching than the man lashed to the post; He will be dead within the week. The length of it is compiled of woven strips of leather forming nine “tails”, each knotted at the end with a sharp barb or fishing hook created to tear into vulnerable, exposed flesh and embed into the muscle before being ripped away.

It is not merely his back that is targetted, but the Decanus is stripped entirely, each lash shredding the delicate skin of back, buttocks, his thighs and bollocks. The punished is made to stand with his legs astride, the whip sparing nothing. They are given neither shred of dignity nor mercy. The muscles in his back and thighs twitch with each tearing strike, forcing a strangled howl from between clenched teeth. Vulpes settles his hips forwards against the stake to which he is secured, the wood abrasive against his cock, but infinitely sweeter than the kiss of the whip. They are about to wash the blood from his wounds with a bucket of salt water—(Oddly more merciful than the other acts they’d commit to prevent infection, merely shoving the snarling Decanus down into the dirt and pissing on his wounds,) when one of the Praetorian Guard, a man named Lucius, bids them halt.

“Caesar demands that the..” Lucius gives pause, clearly uncertain, between Vulpes’ punished status and the intent of Caesar’s summons, how to address the man as of yet lashed to the post, “Decanus be brought to him immediately.”

And that is that, and it is all that Vulpes can do, with the cloying stench of his own blood in his nose and the burn of agony across his torn muscles as he is pulled fully to his feet, not to pass out, to cover himself and his shame before Caesar.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my tumblr. Yes, I'm building up an archive here instead.


End file.
